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Authors: Elí Freysson

Firemoon (11 page)

BOOK: Firemoon
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She dreamt of fire.

 

--------------------             

 

No-one asked where she had been when she entered, but people probably assumed she had woken up early and stepped outside.

Katja ate breakfast and took care to buy supplies that would last for two days if she ate sparingly, as well as a little bit of oats for the horse. And a pair of bags.

Then her journey continued.

The landscape remained similar as before, though the road got a bit broader and the forest a bit thicker.

She looked up at the hills. What was the raiding party up to? Had they made further strikes, if only for food? Had Pine City reacted to their presence in some way? Had Serdra gotten in touch with someone important? Was Valdimar’s army already marching?

It was strange to think how many forces were on the move, as she travelled in this risky safety.

As the day before she arrived at the inn some time before the evening but decided to stop there, if only for the horse’s sake. The house was larger and more impressive than the previous one, but then the traffic was thicker here. That fact did nothing to soothe Katja’s nerves.

A tall, thin man with grey hair stood outside and was tending to minor repairs.

“Good day, good day, young lady,” he said affably and turned to her. “Have you come for a room?”

“Good day yourself. Yes, I have,” she replied. “And I see you have a stables.”

“Indeed I do.” The man whistled and a woman of a similar age came outside and took the horse. “Do you want a room or just a bench in the common?”

“A room, please. A woman travelling alone always feels better behind a door.”

The lie sprang from her lips before she had time to think it through. She had no idea if people thought in such terms around here, but as he opened the door and ushered her the thought occurred that all her weapons didn’t quite fit the statement.

But what was said was said and the man just looked at her with a happy smile at getting more money out of her. He limped through a similar sleeping area as she had gotten to know the night before and Katja followed him through a door to a hallway. There he opened into one of three rooms.

The furniture consisted of a simple bed, a wash tub and two stools. A small candle sat on one of them and a narrow window shutter faced the south-west.

Katja put what food she had left on the bed, along with her blanket and jacket. The weapons stayed where they were.

“I can heat up some water, if you wish,” the grey haired fellow said, still smiling faintly.

“That would be fine, thank you,” she said and paid for room and board.

The innkeeper left and Katja shut the door. There was no bar.

Oh well.

She sat down on the bed. It was fairly clean and would make for a more comfortable night than a bench. If she really would sleep here, that is.

There had been two men in the common room and now she heard a horse come along the road and stop outside the inn. A man’s voice said something and the innkeeper replied. Again she thought of the increased traffic. Of all the eyes that were about and the many different destination to which they might report.

She opened the shutter, both to be sure that it would open without difficulty and to see what it revealed of the outside. This area was less forested. Mankind had replaced them with houses.Katja closed the shutter. She did push-ups, went over the stealth language in her mind and tried swinging the knife about in what space she had. In time she heard the innkeeper’s uneven footsteps approach and sheathed the weapon.

“Will there be anything else?”

“No. Oh, actually, can you bring me dinner when it is ready?” Katja asked. “I have... cramps.” She stroked her tummy and the man nodded and left.

Katja leaned her head back in self-disgust. Redcloaks did not menstruate. Why hadn’t she lied about something she knew how to fake?

Being able to wash herself a bit was a relief, but her clothes remained as dirty as before and stank of both her own sweat and that of the horse. She decided to roll the shirt, socks and underpants about in the washbasin for a bit and then let them slump off the bed as she put the jacket and leather pants back on. It was something, at least.

The common room clearly grew more crowded as dinner approached and from the sound of things no few friends were meeting. Perhaps this was a meeting place for the surrounding area. She grew ever more determined to stay in the room and leave at first light.

The innkeeper brought her a bowl of turnips, chicken meat and potatoes and still that stiff little smile remained glued to his face beneath those pinched eyes. Of course the odds were that the man was entirely harmless, no matter how odd he might be, but Katja still asked not to be disturbed until morning and he agreed.

After his footsteps faded away and common room conversations began to grow louder in tempo with the beer drinking Katja cut a long, thin strip out of the blanket she had bought. She wound it up to create a stiff rope and then tried the foot of one of the stools to the door latch. It took three tries, but eventually she was certain that the stool would stay in place and keep the door secure to at least some degree. One could probably open it by yanking firmly enough often enough, but she would surely rouse at something like that.

She tried pressing her ear against the door to see if she could make something out in the din, but caught only the occasional word. She could think of nothing else to do and so felt she could lie down in good conscience and finally relax a bit after today’s journey. Katja put the sword on the remaining stool with the handle facing her and within reach, and kept the moonblade with her under the blanket.

From what she had been told it seemed she ought to bypass the hills on the morrow, after which the city would be only a short trip to the east. She made an effort to not think about what she would do once there. She did not know what she was heading into and circumstances would have to decide the next step. Still, no matter what she tried possibilities kept creeping up her, often in the form of Serdra’s words about the Redcloaks of past times.

She was not leader or banner carrier. She was a fighter. She chased down the monsters of the world and slew them and then snuck away. That was what she had been trained for. Such were the times she lived in. Or so she and Serdra had thought anyway. Perhaps changes were on the horizon.

But she could not simply enter the city, step up on the walls and declare that she would them to victory.

Just how much did the public know about her people? During childhood she herself had occasionally heard stories and poems from the old wars, which mentioned special agents of Jukiala who supposedly even had magical power. But they had stayed in the shadows for three centuries and she hadn’t put much stock in them, or connected those tales to her own strange urges until Serdra brought her the truth about so many things.

“Couldn’t she just send me to kill something?” Katja muttered to herself. “I know how to handle
that
.”

But this was her situation and she had to confront it, which frightened her more than most other things she had faced.

What awaits me?

Again she saw fire and now heard inhuman screams coming from the flames. This was followed by a long, terrible resounding howl.

It was dark. Katja blinked a few times and realized she had fallen asleep.

She sat up, knife in hand. What had awoken her? Had the howl been real? The combat instincts Serdra had beaten into her were on full alert. What had happened?

She heard a noise outside the shuttered window.

An animal looking for a meal? A thief? Or something worse?

She sat utterly still with every nerve at the ready. A person this close might very well hear the crackling of her straw mat.

Again came the sound and Katja was pretty sure the cause had two legs. Someone walked slowly east along the outside wall, until the footsteps left the range of her ears.

Still Katja sat unmoving in case the person came back. Nothing happened and she stood up and pressed her ear up against the door. She heard neither hinges nor feet.

But something was wrong. Something lay in the air.

Katja glanced at the window, then back at the door. She made a decision and pushed it into action with all the energy the tense waiting had built up within her.

She got fully dressed in a quiet hurry and strapped on the weapons. The blanket went about her shoulders like a cloak and she picked up the food. Then she went up to the shutter and again listened carefully before untying the thin rope that served as a latch and opened with great care. Then she stepped out into the cool night air. Neither her mind nor her muscles were fully rested but she did manage a soft landing and immediately looked about for the person.

She saw nothing but darkened houses and the odd tree and other silent witnesses.

Katja crept along the wall and to the stables. She opened the door and found her saddle by feeling around for it. The other three beasts were three donkeys, one pony and a horse too big to be the one Garan had lent her. Finding the right one was therefore easy but he was far from happy about being led out. The stubbornness was infuriating and she feared being spotted at any moment. An innocent person could even accuse her of horse theft. But she made it outside with the grumpy beast and saddled him.

Next she led him along the road and past the inn, with the sword in her free hand. As soon as the inn was out of sight she mounted and continued on.

She touched her bag of provisions. There really wasn’t much left. She had meant to purchase more from the innkeeper in the morning, as well as some oats for the horse.

A new rule
, she thought.
Never put such things off needlessly.

She could not ride hard, even though she wished to leave the inn behind as fast as possible. She did not know the road and the night was at its darkest. And though danger could lie behind her it could also be waiting up ahead, so best not to blunder into it at full speed.

Moving the horse along without accident took focus; focus she could not spare for her sensitivity. Nevertheless she felt the unease was not lifting.

If anything it strengthened.

Katja stopped the horse in a forested area and tried to find enough inner calm to sense. She had at least enough success to be convinced that the feeling was not caused by simple stress. Something really was wrong. Perhaps even something demonic.

The horse was uneasy and Katja drove him on again, rather faster than she had dared earlier. What was going on? Who had set what loose?

She felt and heard the horse grow weary but did not allow him to slow down. It made no difference; the feeling intensified and now she undeniably detected the black, fouled aura of demonic sorcery. She even began to feel observed.

Soon the horse was more than weary; it was frightened and began to run faster on its own initiative.

The howl cut through sky and mind, flesh and bone and chilled Katja’s heart. The horse whinnied and reared and she only narrowly stayed in the saddle.

“Easy!” she said but felt no ease of her own. The creature was near, somewhere to the south of the road, among the trees. Katja restrained herself from drawing the sword immediately. She didn’t want to drop it or fall on the tip if the horse threw her, and she needed both hands to control the startled beast.

The howl resounded again and was no more bearable now that she was expecting it. It was cold, piercing and bore with it hatred and rage no animal of this world possessed.

Katja heard footsteps and something seemed to dart across the road behind her. The horse finally panicked and reared again. He wanted the weight gone
immediately
.

Katja flew backwards and landed as Serdra had taught her to avoid injury. The horse sped off and Katja rose with the sword at the ready.

“Come on then!” she shouted and peered into the darkened forest as the horse vanished into the distance.

There was no reply.

Katja hesitated. She had faced demons and triumphed, but sensed that whatever was stalking her was powerful. Powerful and strangely controlled, instead of the madness that dominated many summonings. This would be a dangerous fight.

Come and face the Sentinel Flame!
she thought to harden herself.

The creature was moving. Her sensing wasn’t as exact as her eyes but she could still detect as much.

Is it chasing the horse?
Katja thought to herself. She started walking sideways along the road without taking her eyes off the forest north of it. This unseen foe continued in the same direction and seemed to even speed up.

She responded by quickening her own pace and was soon jogging. Just what was going on? Demons knew their natural enemies. Normally it frightened minor monsters but the stronger ones usually charged in a rage. Perhaps it did not want to fight in the thicket any more than she did. Perhaps it was trying to confuse her.

“Face me, fiend!” she shouted.

The enemy was now well ahead of her and Katja looked straight along the road. When it turned past a particularly thick portion of the forest she saw a light ahead. Small flames burned on the ground.

BOOK: Firemoon
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ads

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